Hallelujah
by Golden-Ray
Summary: Songfic. Bad summary so, please, check inside: The end of a party gives Miles a chance to let his feelings out in a different way. Miles/Franziska. One-shot.


**As the title suggests, this is a songfic to the song "Hallelujah", originally by Leonard Cohen but covered by plenty of other artists (eg. Jeff Buckley, Rufus Wainwright). It's also a songfic where the character actually sings/plays the song and the story is loosely based on the lyrics of the song. As much as someone could base something on "Hallelujah" which's lyrics seem to mean so many different things to each person, that is.**

**So, yesterday I listened to this song after a long time and this story formed into my head and I just _had _to write it. It is supposed to be angsty/sad to some degree but angst is definitely not my thing. I'm not exactly satisfied with the result but, maybe that's just me and you people have a different opinion... It's up to you to tell me, really.**

**Pairing is Miles/Franziska. It's highly recommended that you listen to the song while reading since I believe that it sets the mood very well and, if my writing utterly fails to evoke the feelings this story is supposed to evoke, I'm pretty sure the song will.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, I gain nothing.**

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**Hallelujah**

He slowly sat himself in one of the living room chairs and hid his face in his hands, finally letting go of the stony expression he was wearing up until that moment in an attempt to hide his feelings. The other guests had either fallen asleep from exhaustion, moved to other rooms of the house or had drunk a tad bit more than they could handle and were lying passed out on some couch so, he could freely let his emotions show. No one was there to see him after all.

He had no idea why he had attended this party in the first place. He had no idea why Wright had invited him either. The defense attorney knew very well what he was going through. He should have left him alone…

Miles believed that his friend was under the impression something like a party could make him feel better. Edgeworth could only chortle bitterly at this thought. If he was right in thinking so, then Phoenix was more naïve than he had initially considered him to be. A party could never lift his spirits… Miles wasn't sure that anything in the world could achieve that right now.

The thought that maybe Wright had invited him so that he would meet up with Her again had crossed his mind as well. He had felt fear at first… He was afraid of what would happen if he were to see her again, afraid that she would say something and shatter whatever pathetic hope he had still left; a hope that maybe it wasn't all over and that he had simply misunderstood the meaning of her sudden disappearance and her refusal to answer his calls. But, deep inside him he knew that she had left him.

However, it was that fear that had probably led him to attend the celebration. He realized that he couldn't stand not being able to see her or hear her voice anymore. He was going to face her even if that would kill him. He had only wanted to stand near her one last time…

But, he had soon realized that this wasn't Wright's intention because, for the duration of the night, he hadn't spotted her anywhere. Then again, he wasn't sure he would have noticed her even if she was, indeed, there. It was like his body had stopped functioning properly since the day of their parting. He saw nothing, he heard nothing and he felt nothing… Whether it had been days or an eternity since "that day" he didn't know. Everything passed him by in a blur. He had no recollection of the events of the previous days and no recollection of how he passed his time. He only mechanically did what was absolutely necessary for his survival. He had never been particularly social but now he had completely cut himself from the rest of the world. A case was removed from his hands because of this state of indifference but he didn't care. It no longer mattered to him.

With a shaky sigh he ran his hand through his hair something that would probably make them look even more unkempt than they already did but, looking presentable in front of other people was something that had stopped concerning him.

Tiredly, he laid his back on the chair and looked at the dark room around him. There was a large party banner hanging from the ceiling reading: "Happy Birthday Nick!" and the floor was covered in confetti. Party poppers and paper hats were lying discarded here and there while one could see plates with food left on the tables.

Miles thought that it must have been a very nice party. Everyone had seemed to be having fun. They had tried to make him participate in the activities as well but they gave up once they saw there was no convincing him. He didn't blame them. This was a day to be celebrated and he didn't want to spoil it with his attitude so, he simply withdrew himself.

He had hardly eaten any of the –admittedly- delicious-looking foods and he hadn't gathered with the rest when they had decided to play a board game despite how much he loved board games himself. And when the lights lowered and music started to play, he simply sat on a chair next to the dance floor and stared at the ground, not willing to watch his friends dance till they dropped. The only dance he had seen that night was that of the colored lights of the disco ball which moved on the floor.

In a corner he noticed the crummy guitar Larry had brought as a present to his childhood friend, only to be informed by Phoenix that he had no idea how to play the guitar something that greatly disappointed Larry who declared that he had spent thirty five whole dollars to get it from a second hand shop.

Suddenly overcome with the desire to let his feelings out in a better way than simply screaming, he walked to the instrument, picked it up and returned to his chair. He gently laid the guitar on his leg and sat for a moment, indecisive. It had been ages since he had last played and he had never learned more than a few songs but, the painful tugging at his heart was too much. He had to soothe it in some way or he would explode. He took a few breaths and closed his eyes trying to relax, letting his fingers move…

_Well, I heard there was a secret chord_  
_That David played and it pleased the Lord_  
_But you don't really care for music, do you?_  
_Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth_  
_The minor fall and the major lift_  
_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

He had been taught how to play this song by a close friend of his father and Gregory Edgeworth would sometimes request his son played and sang it for him on his father's classic guitar. Young Miles would usually comply but he never, ever sang. He was too shy and he didn't like the song much back then. He found it to be too sad and he couldn't understand what it meant. His father would laugh each time he heard his reasoning and used to tell him he would one day appreciate it as well.

And indeed, after Gregory's death, Miles considered it to be his song. Edgeworth's attitude toward the tune changed and, whenever he reminisced about his dad, he found himself softly singing the lyrics. That was something Manfred von Karma disapproved of so Miles dared sing only when the prosecutor wasn't around.

Now he sang for another loss… Previously, he would have never considered possible that something could hurt him more than the death of his father but, now he had come to realize he was wrong. Because there's a different kind of loss which is more painful than death. Death is final and leaves no room for false hope unlike this kind of parting where he would stare at the phone for hours, praying it would ring, only to feel devastated when it did not; where he knew that things could easily change but did not know _how_ to make them change; where he could feel that the person he wanted couldn't be that far away and yet she was no closer to his reach than the moon. This constant hope that was born inside him every day and got crushed in the night only to be reborn next morning and die once more, this painful, endless cycle was what was draining him of all of his energy and prevented him from moving forward.

_Well, your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
_You saw her bathing on the roof_  
_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_  
_She tied you to her kitchen chair_  
_She broke your throne and she cut your hair_  
_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

He cringed as he plucked a wrong chord and then another. His skills had become rusty and he made lots of mistakes but he had never played this way before. He was channeling all of his feelings to the instrument and, despite the false notes and the low quality sound of the cheap guitar, the music that came out of it was a perfect reflection of his feelings.

He looked at the other people in or close to the living room. He could see a hand hanging limp from behind the half closed corridor door and he guessed that it belonged to Larry who had drunk several glasses of wine and had passed out on a couch in the hall, his contented snores audible to all nearby rooms.

Lying on the sofa in the living room itself was Detective Gumshoe and Maggey Byrd, both fast asleep. Apparently, his playing had not awoken any of them and probably wouldn't even if he were to hit the strings harder since they probably were in a very deep sleep due to dancing non-stop all night long. Gumshoe's head was bent back and his mouth was hanging open. The woman next to him was sleeping a lot more elegantly as she was curled up next to him in fetal position, her head resting on his arm and a faint smile on her face. It was a peaceful and pretty sight to behold despite the detective's clumsiness.

He wondered what they looked like when She used to lie in his own arms during quick naps in front of the TV or when they snuggled up in bed during cold winter nights. Judging by how positively Maggey's presence affected the picture, he guessed that they were an even prettier sight to behold if only because of Franziska's beauty and elegance. Miles had always considered her to be the prettiest creature on earth and he had often liked to gaze at her to see how the light played with her hair and eyes or how her fingers would neatly curl around a tea cup…

He should have been aware of such beauty.

He had thought that everything was going alright. Everything had seemed fine to him; ideal even. Why had she left so suddenly? Was it his fault? Had he done something wrong? And even if he had, why didn't she tell him? Or why didn't she at least leave a message explaining to him why she was abandoning him?

He should have expected he would have his heart broken. She was a von Karma, after all. In his most sorrowful moments he even believed that she had gotten into a relationship with him only so that she could one day walk away and leave him a total wreck, getting the victory she had always wanted.

But then he would tell himself that it probably wasn't like that. Perhaps she had left because she had felt confused or maybe their getting together was big mistake and she had wanted to fix that mistake by walking away…

_Baby I've been here before_  
_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor_  
_You know, I used to live alone before I knew you_  
_I've seen your flag on the marble arch_  
_And love is not a victory march_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

And yet, how life-changing had this relationship been for Miles… He had experienced very strong feelings, feelings he had never cared for before. He had dreamt of his future by her side. He had imagined everything: they could live in a big house and he would let her decorate it any way she liked and he would always love and protect her. Heck, he had even imagined kids running around in the house, filling it with their laughter. He would have liked to have a daughter that would look like her…

He felt his body shake from a sob and he winced and cringed his teeth. No he couldn't cry. He didn't want to cry but he couldn't help the moisture in his eyes. It probably was the song. It was starting to get to him. Or it was the reminder that all of his dreams had been shattered...

But maybe they were never meant to be. Maybe she was not the right person for him. Maybe she was just there to show him the pain one could experience through love. Maybe everything was just too perfect to be real and so he was stripped of his happiness as a punishment for being offered what no mortal should ever experience: absolute bliss.

He blinked to prevent tears from escaping his eyes, feeling angry that he couldn't keep his emotions at bay. But there were sources for his anger other than his fight with his feelings. He was angry because he didn't want to believe that their break up was a form of punishment. He was angry because he still couldn't accept he had been betrayed by the one he loved. And he was angry because he couldn't stop seeing with his mind's eye the image of two wondrous blue eyes staring at a younger version of him curiously as he hummed this very song one day when he had thought nobody would hear. She had liked it as well, he recalled. Why did everything have to remind him of her?

_Well there was a time when you let me know_  
_What's really going on below_  
_But now you never show that to me, do you?_  
_But remember when I moved in you_  
_And the holy dove was moving too_  
_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

He began losing the fight with his tears, the questions he had repeatedly been asking himself lately reemerging in his mind. Had she really not loved him at all? He was no expert but it had, indeed, felt like true love or at least what people described as true love.

It had changed him and he believed it had changed her as well. She was more open with him, she had let him saw her softer side. He was more relaxed in her presence and felt happier. And his heart was so full when he held her close… Such bliss he felt that it was almost painful.

And he used to be certain that she was returning his love… In his mind flashed memories of their time together and, despite them being just images, they seemed to be causing the same reaction to his body as the real thing. He could almost feel her hands embracing him and her gentle kisses burning his skin and sending shivers down his spine… And he could hear her laugh or yell or crack her whip and he could sense the ghost of the comfort and peace he used to feel when there was just the two of them. It had felt so right when they had lain together side by side, tightly embraced…

How did she bring herself to leave him when he was so devoted to her? How could she do this to him?

_Maybe there is a god above_  
_But all I've ever learned from love_  
_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you_  
_And it's not a cry that you hear at night_  
_It's not somebody who's seen the light_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

He decided to let a couple of tears run down hoping that he would be able to calm down and compose himself after that. Nobody watched him so what did it matter? And it worked. The torturing thoughts and his anger faded away but, he ended up feeling drained.

He thought he should probably stop accusing Franziska… It did nothing to make him feel better and he actually hated himself for directing his frustration to her mentally. He simply couldn't hate what he loved. For all he knew it might have been his fault that he stood alone right now so, maybe it was unfair of him to blame her.

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah…_

His voice was now a barely audible whisper. He felt too weak to finish the song so he laid the guitar on the floor and once more hid his face in his hands. It felt like huge claws were tearing his heart apart and he wished that something would put an end to his suffering.

He removed his hand and let his head hang limply. His worn out reflexes barely caught the movement but his senses immediately recognized the arms that hugged him tightly and the soft lips that mashed on his own despite the fact they tasted differently... Salty and too moist.

For a moment he was frozen and unable to react, believing this to be just a figment of his imagination. But it was not and he hastily responded, wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her as close to him as possible, feeling her face and her torso, trying to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating.

He had no idea what she was doing there and he had no idea why she had returned. Had she been watching him all that time? Was this all planned or was it just an impulse that had brought her back to him? But, at the moment, it didn't matter. What mattered was that she had returned and, whatever the problem was, they would solve it tomorrow. For now, he only wanted to lose himself in the kiss and pretend that the days of their separation were nothing but a bad dream…

_…Hallelujah…_

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**There. I even gave it a good ending. I told you I'm no good at writing sad stuff! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. Reviews and all kinds of comments are always welcome! :)**


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